Josh has a pressure sore. He is a wreck. This was the nickname one of his buddies sent to him. It at least got a giggle out of him.
We both have vivid memories of the last pressure sore, otherwise known as a bed sore. It landed him in the hospital for 3 months. Over Christmas.
Three months of laying flat on his back.
8 weeks of IV antibiotics.
This sort of thing is the type of illness that makes him feel very "mortal". Infection, antibiotic-resistant infection, is not something to be messed with. It's how Christopher Reeve died.
We are nowhere near that, but it sure scares him (us).
I'm tired of life being hard. I'm tired of feeling like there is always something else to deal with.
This is nowhere near as difficult as the death of Ava, or Josh's accident, or infidelity.
But it's still hard. Still difficult.
I hate the ache in my chest, the lump in my throat.
I can't fix Josh, can't heal his pressure sore. I can encourage him. I can pray for him.
And I will continue to rely on the One who gives me strength to face the day, the reason we have hope.